Silent Screams of Innocence
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: A series of brutal multiple murders have been occuring in Toronto and every victims is an unknown child. The BAU team is called in and with the help of the SRU they race to catch the UnSub. But why does Sam seem to have a connection with all the victims?
1. Prologue

**I've recently become addicted to Criminal Minds and I'm a hard core Flashpoint fan and writing this was just awesome for me. :) All I have for the moment is this prologue, but I really like it along with the idea. I have a very twisted idea of where this will go (mwahahahaha) which is so much fun. So please, comment and enjoy.**

**Description: A series of brutal multiple murders have been occuring all throughout Toronto and all the victims are unknown children. The BAU team is called in and with the help of the SRU, who where always first on scene, they race to catch the murderer. Or murderers? And why does Sam seem to have such a personal connection with all the victims?**

**Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I owned these shows. But, obviously, since I'm here, I don't. :(**

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><p><em>They say that Darkness is an evil thing. That it should be destroyed and that people infected with it are condemed. But what they don't understand is that shadows cannot exist with out light. ~me<em>

_Prologue:_

_Screaming. Panic. Blood. Pain. Death. Terror. Needa cowered, terrified and with tears streaming down her face, in the back of the cupboard under the sink. Her eyes couldn't seem to tear away from the crack between the doors and she watched the chaos in total fear. Her body was frozen in a fetal position, her long dark hair covering half her face, but she couldn't force herself to shake it away._

_Only six years old, she had already seen more death then nearly every human adult. Her instincts reared when she heard Zila's scream cut short and her sight flickered, eyes changing from blue to brilliant gold. A small whimper escaped her as she watched one of the wolfmen tear her older brother's arm off and laugh while he screamed. Then he sank his teeth into her brother's throat. Becoming single-mindedly focused on drinking Cory's lifeblood, he absently tossed away the limp arm._

_It landed with a splatter against the very cupboard where Needa was hiding. She let out a stifled shriek as some blood spattered onto her face. She instantly recoiled and pressed herself even farther back into the cupboard. The monster paused in its gorging and its eyes flicked to where she was hiding. He dropped Cory's body, which landed with a sickening thud next to Jase, who was still emitting a gurgling noise even as blood poured from the gash in his throat._

_Needa finally squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out as much as she could and prayed he wouldn't find her. She that, including Cory and Jase, Zila, Braston, Greggy and Timly were already dead. The other three wolfmen had taken them first because they were older. But she didn't know about Kane… then she heard him scream. There was a crash from the other room and maniacal laughter followed the sound. Needa vaguely wondered where Adana was when they needed her the most._

_Bright light suddenly struck her eyelids and something began to chuckle. A large rough hand grabbed her by the front and pulled her viciously from her hiding place. She knew she was dead then and there._

_"I found you little piggy. There's no use hiding from the big bad wolf." His hot breath burner her ear and it smelled of death. Needa fought weakly against his grip which just caused a snort of laughter. She felt herself turning in the air and opened her eyes to look directly into his amber ones. He grinned at her._

_"Say good bye little piggy." Then he raised his knife and began to slash. The last thing Needa ever saw was her blood spraying onto the ceiling and the bodies of the only family she had ever known. They had all been under the age of 14._

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><p><strong>Let me know what you think :)<strong>

**~lazerwolf314**


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay, this chapter came out a bit shaky and I apologize. This is just to get it up off the ground, so if it seems a little choppy, I'm sorry. I just needed something that would leap into the future. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, alerts and faves. It means a bunch. :)))))) You guys are awesome.**

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><p><em>We're trapped inside the matrix, forced to play our hand. We're filled with so much hatred, the kids don't stand a chance. ~ Bobby Simmons<em>

The exhausted and despaired Team One of the Toronto SRU sat around the large conference room table in silence. Every person was lost in his or her own thoughts with tired eyes and nightmares playing behind them. They were waiting for their team leader, Sergeant Gregory Parker to arrive and commence the briefing. No one had a clue as to what it was about and confusion was humming in the air along with the sadness that clung to every member. The sadness that had been increasing after every one of the calls.

Footsteps sounded outside the door and the collective looked up as Greg and Inspector Stainton of the Toronto Police department walked in. The Inspector was holding a large manila folder everyone instantly knew what it was. You could practically feel the rage race down your spine as it spiked, filling the room.

"Team One, thank you for being here on such a short notice. I know it's been a long and hard two months and the city thanks you for your continued vigilance." Stainton said gravely. They just looked at him, knowing how hollow those words were; the words meant to comfort. The Inspector noticed and nodded to himself.

"What's this about Sarg?" Constable Julianna 'Jules' Callahan demanded, weariness snapping through her voice. Her normally calm demenor had been shattered after the first call and as the others followed, the stress and grief had taken its toll on her. There was little of the outgoing woman the team knew left.

Shooting as sideways look at Stainton, Greg got the nod of approval and continued. "The Toronto PD has called in the FBI, specifically the BAU, to aid with the cases. They will be arriving tomorrow morning and we wanted to let you know ahead of time that we will be working jointly with them. They will also need to conduct interviews with you."

Constable Sam Braddock looked up from the table which he had been solely focusing on since his arrival. "Does the FBI even work cases in Canada?" He asked softly. He knew a lot of juridical crap could arise when bringing people from outside sources in.

"Not usually, but a few months back, there was a similar case in Michigan. No one connected it because there was also an elderly couple killed. Everyone just assumed that they were caretakers for the children and the runaway link never arose. It wasn't until some of the victims here began to show some of the same markings did the connection click. The killings on their turf give them enough jurisdiction."

"There were more?" Kevin 'Wordy' Wordsworth murmured, shock dulling the anger.

"Yes." Stainton replied sadly. "Six more."

_"Team One hot call, hot call. Reports of domestic disturbances and shots fired in the Scarborough area." Winnie's voice blasted over the intercom, summoning the team from the conference room. Ed, Greg and Jules stopped at the desk; Sam, Wordy and Spike moving on to make sure everything they would need were already in the truck._

_"Before you can ask, first on scene have already secured the premises and are waiting for further orders. It's a small town house. There have been no reports of the suspects fleeing, but witness' state they saw four to five men entering the building." Winnie told them rapidly, still going over the flow of information being sent to her._

_"Do you know who is currently living there?" Sarg asked._

_"No; it's listed as abandoned. But there were also reports of screams, which is why this was pushed to us so fast."_

_"Alright, thanks Winnie. Feed us on the fly." Ed responded, and they headed out to the trucks._

_"You got it." _

_Swinging into the front lot of the building, they quickly unloaded gear and began to set up a tactic plan. After many unsuccessful attempts to make contact with anyone inside, they decided to go in hard. They only made it as far as the door._

_The first body was splayed on the floor in a crude X, a small smiley face painted on her face in blood. Her eyes were open and staring, internal organs flowing from her abdomen. Her left hand was missing. She appeared to be only five. Wordy had been forced to back out, gagging, as she reminded him too much of his middle daughter._

_Team One cleared the rest of the building and found no living beings in the building. Only four dead children that had been torn to pieces. That was the first case that had begun their slow decent into hell._

Emily Prentiss was snagging her jacket from under her desk when Jennifer Jareau 'JJ' appeared. Next to her, Derek Morgan sighed and deposited his things, Dr. Spencer Reid echoing the motion. They had learned long ago that the particular expression that their media liaison was wearing meant they weren't going to be seeing their own beds for a long time. But they had never seen the level of grief in their friend's eyes. The look effectively halted any questions as they followed JJ down the catwalk to the conference room.

With preamble, JJ handed out the files as soon as everyone was seated.

"Three days ago, six children were brutally murdered in Toronto, Ontario." She said her voice uncharacteristically cold and hollow.

Emily looked up from the file in her hands, just as she was about to flip over to the crime scene photos. "Toronto? Do we even have jurisdiction there?"

"We were called in. The local PD and the RCMP are getting desperate. This was the fifth killing in a month and a half. Also, there was an attack like this in Michigan a few months ago. It was only just connected because there was also an elderly couple killed. That makes part of it ours." With that JJ clicked the photos of the most recent murders up on the screen. Garcia sucked in a breath and quickly turned away, unable to deal with the horror in front of her. Morgan felt a wave of pity and rage hit him as he stared at the small and broken bodies in front of them. Reid simply stared, not willing to feel anything that would make him lose it. Prentiss had tears surface in her eyes, but she quickly forced them back and Rossi reached out to pat her hand comfortingly. Hotch's face was unreadable as he took in this new level of cruelty.

"I assume we are taking the case." JJ asked softly.

"Yes. Wheels up in twenty." Hotch agreed before exiting the room in a rush. With one last look at the pictures, the rest followed.


	3. Chapter 2

_Apologies for the delay in this chapter as well as the choppiness as well. This seemed like the only way I could truly get the ball rolling on this fic. Anyway, my asterixs weren't working, so I got stuck just using the normal breaks... So, please let me know what you think and thanks go out to all reviewers and followers. You guys are all amazing. :)_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Flashpoint or Criminal Minds._

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><p>They landed in Toronto as scheduled. The BAU team was met at the airport by Inspector Stainton, the man in charge of the case. After going through the introductions, he led them to the vehicles that they would be using and then accompanied JJ and Rossi to the police station. Morgan and Reid quickly headed off to the first crime scene for a walk through and Hotch and Prentiss went to the latest one.<p>

Not much was left at the first scene, leaving Morgan and Reid to meet back with Rossi and JJ sooner than intended, helping go over the massive case file that had already been compiled. But much remained at the latest, the one that had been hit only days before.

When Hotch first stepped through the doors of the rundown building, he was instantly hit with the smell of death. It was overwhelmingly powerful and seemed to seep from every inch of the place. As they walked through the halls, passing large sprays and pools of dark brown, they kept their thoughts mostly to themselves. For both of them, it was heart wrenching to see all the blood and see where the children had been killed.

After they went through the rest of the building, they returned to the station in silence, where JJ, Rossi, Morgan and Reid where preparing for the arrival of the police team that had been to each scene. The team's sergeant was already there, standing off to the side with his phone pressed to his ear. He looked up when Hotch and Prentiss entered and gave a polite nod, before returning to his conversation.

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><p>Sam was staring at the ceiling when the call came. Simply sprawled on his back, slowly counting the tiny dots above him. The floor beneath him was uncomfortable, but he had long become accustomed to the harshness around him. In more ways than one.<p>

Moving only his arm, he continued to look upwards as he located the phone.

"Braddock."

"Sam, its Greg. The FBI guys just got here and they are going to start conducting interviews after they get settled in and do some things. Do you think you can be down here in the next hour?" Greg's voice was tired and strained; a mirror of all of the Team.

"Yeah. I'll see you there." Clicking the phone off, he went back to counting the spots above him.

He could hear Jules walking around the kitchen, probably cleaning, as she had started downing ever since the beginning. He supposed he should get up and let her know what was happening, but at the moment, he just wanted a few more minutes to enjoy the silence. To enjoy the brainless action of counting what was above him. But eventually, he would have to think soon.

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><p>Wordy was helping his oldest daughter, Amy, paint a picture when he was called. He let Shelly answer it as he continued to add the blue dots to the page as he was directed. This is what he needed; time with his family. With his daughters, he could ease some of the sick fury in him as he played with his children. It seemed to be the only thing keeping him sane.<p>

"Kev, it's for you." Shelly called softly, holding out the phone to him. Placing a soft kiss on Amy's head, he deposited the brush and took the phone from his wife. Holding it to his ear, he said, "Wordsworth."

"Wordy, the FBI just arrived and they wanted to start some of the interviews right after they get settled and do some stuff. Think you can get here in about an hour?" Greg asked and Wordy noted the undercurrent of exhaustion and anger; the same thing held in all of their voices these days.

"I guess. See you then." Wordy placed the phone back in its hook and closed his eyes. Feeling tiny arms slip around his waist, he felt the beginnings of a smile twitch his lips as he glanced down to see Amy hugging him for all she was worth.

"Don't be sad daddy." She told him, before pulling away and returning to her picture, leaving him swamped with emotions.

He stood there for a while, before he headed into the basement, where Spike was nursing a beer and mulling over renovation plans. Ever since this had started, the younger man had been found more and more often at the Wordsworth residence, for reasons he had yet to explain. Wordy wasn't going to push his friend; hell he had his own problems to deal with. And it was good to have someone around who understood exactly what was going on.

"Hey buddy. I think I figured out your support problems." Spike crowed, looking up with a shadow of the zest he used to have. But it was still there.

"Nice." Wordy paused. "Boss wants us to meet at the station soon. The feebies are here."

They looked at each other for a moment, sadness and darkness flickering through their eyes simultaneously. Then Spike nodded and they headed out.

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><p>Despite how much little respect he had for the game, Ed found himself shooting hoops with Clark. Over the past few weeks, he had noticed that he had drawn even closer to his son then they had ever been, going out of his way to make sure his boy was happy. Thus, he was playing basketball, which didn't even measure close to hockey in his eyes, but at the moment, he couldn't care less.<p>

"First to ten wins remember?" Clark crowed as he sunk another perfect foul shot, bumping his score to nine.

"Yeah, yeah." Ed grumbled good naturally, a wry smile twitching across his face. He moved rapidly, stealing the ball quickly and letting it fly at the net. It bounced on the rim for a few tense moments, before reluctantly falling through.

"What's that bring you to Dad? Is it two? Or three? I lost count while I was winning." Clark grinned as Ed's face turned to a scowl. He reached over and grabbed Clark around the neck, pulling him into a playful headlock and chuckling while the boy yelped.

"What was that?" Ed asked mildly, holding fast against Clark's attempt to head-butt him.

"Lemme go! Mom, help!" Clark cried, quickly turning to his mother for salvation when she emerged from the house. Sophie took one look at the pair and a sigh escaped her lips.

"Eddie, it's Greg. He wants to talk to you." She called, holding out the cordless to him. As a the dark mask that had been growing more and more permanent over the weeks slid back into place, Ed let Clark up gently. Spotting the all too familiar expression on his father's face, Clark quietly backed away to find the basketball.

"Hey boss."

"Hey Eddie. I'm down at the station and the FBI are here. They want to meet with the team and conduct some interviews. Think you can get here in the next hour?" Greg asked.

"Sure thing boss. I'll see you then." He clicked the phone shut and passed it back to Sophie, who silently pulled him into the hug he didn't know he needed. And he let himself shake as he let out some of the tension and pain he didn't know he held inside.


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello all. Thank you so much for the kind reviews. They truly make my day. They are… chocolate. ^.^ Don't really like the end of this chapter, but I had fun with the first part._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Flashpoint or Criminal minds._

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><p>They arrived in a scattered order.<p>

Ed was the first there, having left as soon as he got the call. He greeted Greg with the standard formalities along with a few other comments about Team One before settling back next to his sergeant and watching the agents that watched him. Dressed in civilian clothing, Ed held the outward appearance of utter calm, but the firearm on his side and the twitch in his fingers gave away the strain. He was introduced to the FBI team politely and quickly before going back to waiting for the others. Their team leader, Aaron Hotchner regarded him silently, recognizing the warrior in front of them.

Wordy and Spike filtered in next. Spike was mumbling something about the 'minivan express' which had the FBI looking lost and Greg shaking his head in resigned amusement. They were introduced just as rapidly. Both were dressed in casual jeans and Wordy sported a plaid button up shirt while Spike simply wore an old t-shirt advertising a band no one even recognized. The profilers remarked that the two new arrivals also had smudges of drywall dust on the knees of their pant legs.

Although Sam and Jules arrived at the same time, Jules headed up to meet the team while Sam meandered in the lobby for a few moments. He didn't quite understand her strict obsession with the secrecy of their relationship, he wasn't about to bring up the whole mattered. Both were stretched too thin as it was and one wrong word could set them both off.

Jules exchanged a warm welcome with her team, her face giving off the outward appearance of calm. Yet Team One could easily see through the cracks in her expression as easily as if they had been their own. But none commented, knowing that the female negotiator was holding herself together by strands; as they all were, and first impressions were important. Her voice became clipped and formal as she shook hands with the feebes, which was noted primarily by the raven haired woman who stood near the back of the room.

Only a moment later, Sam slipped into the room in silence. He nodded a hello to his team, but distanced himself from them, an action that was not lost upon any of the occupants. Facing the FBI, he flicked his eyes over each with a calculating gleam, dancing across Emily Prentiss last and then slipping away before his gaze shot back and rested on her, dull shock twitching his body ramrod straight. A similar reaction passed across her features as she was equally unable to mask the recognition.

Standing in a room filled with the FBI's top profilers and the SRU's number one team, it did not go unnoticed.

Just as Greg was opening his mouth to speak, confusion evident, Hotch spoke. "Do you two know each other?" his voice was mild and deceptively easy, yet his eyes bounced from his team mate to the blonde haired man across from him.

Lifting an eyebrow, Sam finally broke his gaze from Emily's, giving her permission to continue.

"It's… we go back," she responded, earning a muffled snort from Sam. This caused each member of Team One to look at him in surprise. It was the first time in the long months that he had shown a glimmer of the man he had been before all of this.

"Sure. Let's go with that," Sam mumbled, leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes in clear dismissal. An awkward silence filled the room, glances flicked to people known and unknown.

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><p>His men were sprawled across the ramshackle apartment. Filth covered the floor, torn shutters blocked the windows and half eaten and stale food littered most surfaces. Broken furniture was spread around the room; shabby items picked up from the street to provide some comfort in the residence they were squatting in. Sheets covered each piece, a mandatory order by the leader, who did not appreciate the circumstances in which they were living.<p>

Two of the men were engaged in a heated argument concerning their poker game, long abandoned in the heat of fighting. The vicious words, barely held at a low level, provided enough action for them. For, these men lived for whatever battles they could find. Their minds had long ago become accustomed to what they did. There was no remorse or guilt, just the constant need for death and chaos.

Another was passed out on a scarred couch, a half empty bottle of tequila clasped in one hand. It was tilted dangerously towards the floor, and yet no one bothered to move it. A smattering of ginger stubble graced the man's chin, marred only by the four inch long scar that crossed his right cheek from the corner of his eye to mouth. Desperation was woven into every line of his face. And yet he slept on soundly.

The fourth rested on his back, counting the dots on the ceiling. It was a technique he had learned long ago to cope with the shadows in his mind.

The leader sat at an empty table, phone resting between his outstretched hands. His eyes were closed, breaths evenly spaced. Next to the phone, a tattered mask lay dejected. The face of a wolf was sunken in, deflated.

Suddenly, a piercing bell rang out, jerking the two poker players from their escalating argument and their eyes turned towards the leader. The other two did not so much as jerk.

Answering, the only sound the leader let out was grunts of affirmative. Seconds later, he snapped the phone shut and tossed it at the sleeping man on the couch, yanking him from oblivion. The bottle hit the floor with a crash, spilling clear liquid onto the floor. All sets of eyes landed on the leader, one clouded with sleep, two with anger and the final with cold emptiness.

"The General just gave us a new one. Gear up." The leader snapped, snatching the wolf's mask as he did so. Nods were received and the team sprang into rapid action, moving as a single cohesive unit.


End file.
